The Ward
by Anxious-Writer
Summary: Quinn ends up somewhere she doesn't expect. A little bit of Faberry. I'm not sure where this will end up or if I'll continue it. WARNING: Contains descriptions of psychiatric wards as well as depression and anxiety.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I've been trying to commit myself to writing at least a little bit every day. I was thinking about what I could do for my next fic, since I wasn't really in the mood to write smut, and this just came to mind and I couldn't get it out of my head. I hope you enjoy.

**WARNING: **Contains references to suicide and descriptions of psychiatric wards as well as descriptions of depression and anxiety problems. If you find any of that triggering, please do not read this. Thank you.

As per usual, I don't own anything but the plot.

I did, however, base this on some of my own experiences. So please, be conscious of that while reviewing.

* * *

This couldn't be happening.

_But it is, sweetheart. And you have no one to blame but yourself._

Santana's tearful voice came to mind and she felt a stab of regret.

_"It'll be okay, Q. They'll take care of you." _

The sound of the heavy police boots on tile floors rang through her mind as she followed the officers, her wrists cramping in the heavy handcuffs.

"They'll get you checked in in just a minute," the tall officer told her. "I'll take those off now."

A key clicked into the lock and she suddenly understood why in every TV show and movie, assailants rubbed their wrists after having on handcuffs.

After several minutes of prying questions, a breathalyzer test, and a urine sample, a doctor came through the door, dismissing the police officers.

"Okay, Miss Fabray. If you'll follow me, we'll finish getting you checked in."

Everything about this night felt like a blur. One minute she was on her bed with a handful of sleeping pills and a bottle of her dad's scotch and the next she was sitting in the back of a police car.

"Here's what you'll wear now. Your clothes and personal items will be put in a locker and returned to you when you go home."

"When will that be?"

The busty woman met the blonde's fearful gaze and just smiled pityingly.

"You need to change into the clothes."

Hazel eyes searched the room for a screen or a sign to direct her to a bathroom.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"You have to change here. You're under 48 hour watch."

The blonde's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. She supposed she deserved this.

Her gaze refused to leave the floor as she slowly stripped to change into the pale blue, scratchy scrubs she'd been given, her arms working to cover any parts of her body that may be exposed.

The nurse watched the girl, eyes intently following things like the strings on her hoodie, and her shoelaces.

"Alrighty. I'll take those," the nurse said, indicating to the stack of Quinn's, now folded, clothing. "And do you have a cell phone, iPod, or anything else on your person?"

Quinn looked tentatively down at herself, fingering the delicate chain of her gold necklace.

"I'll have to take that too, sweetie. And your earrings."

Feeling a sense of shame wash over her, she carefully removed her cross necklace and simple diamond stud earrings.

"Now do you have any other jewelry? Bellybutton piercing? Toe rings? Nipple rings?"

Hazel eyes grew to the size of saucers and the blonde shook her head.

"Alright. This time, I'll take your word for it. But if we notice anything suspicious, you'll have to go through a strip search. Are you sure there's nothing else?"

Quinn nodded, her hands fisting in the hem of her blue scrub shirt.

"Just a few more things and I'll take you to your room."

After being poked and prodded more than she cared to admit, Quinn was taken to a room on edge of a big, circular wing of the hospital. Her room had no door. That combined with the too bright fluorescent lights overhead made her feel even less like a human.

She felt like a lab rat.

There were three other beds in her room, each on opposite ends of the room. A communal bathroom with a privacy curtain was in the middle of the far wall.

"You can put your things in the drawer," a nurse told her, pointing to the small bedside table.

Quinn looked down at the plastic covered toothbrush and the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that resembled those of a hotel.

_Hah. But this is no hotel, Quinnie._

The bed felt too solid underneath her. The blankets too thin.

"Dinner is at six. Showers are at eight. You can have someone bring you your own shampoo and conditioner so long as it's unopened. There's a phone by the nurse's station. I'll let you settle in now."

Quinn nodded mutely and stared at her slipper-sock covered feet as the nurse retreated from the room.

"The first night is always the worst."

Quinn spun around and found herself eye to eye with a short brunette.

"Once you get used to being able to sleep with the lights on, it's much better," the brunette said, extending her hand.

Quinn's brow furrowed as she looked from the girl to the toiletries in her hands.

"I'm Rachel," the girl said, cautiously dropping her hand to her side. "I sleep in the bed next to yours."

The blonde looked over her shoulder at the bed behind her. A blue, flowery blanket was folded at the foot of the bed.

"… What's your name?" Rachel ventured, eyeing the blonde warily.

"Quinn."

"Well. Welcome to the psych ward, Quinn."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not sure if I'll continue this so I make no promises, but I like the idea for now. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I thought I was done writing for the day, but I suppose not. You never know where the urge will strike you to write. Again, I make no promises that I will keep this story going, but I do rather like the ideas I have for it. Let me know what you think.

**Warning: **Please do not read this if you are easily triggered by the idea or description of depression, anxiety, or psychiatric wards.

I own nothing but my memories and the ideas I have.

* * *

Time went on and the glaring brightness of the fluorescents seemed to go from utterly blinding to fairly normal.

It still felt utterly degrading to be unable to use a pencil or pen and to have to use a crayon.

But for the most part, Quinn felt a bit more comfortable.

She was allowed to stay on the phone for as long as she liked, so long as no one else needed it but she didn't really have anyone to call.

She'd talked to Santana, but words seemed to die between the two. The feisty brunette seemed afraid to treat Quinn the way she normally would and would barely tease her at all.

Puck mostly talked about the girls he was into or what level of Call of Duty was hardest.

Brittany seemed to be the only one who could really get her mind out of the stark, white walls of the psych ward. But even then, one could only listen to so much about Lord Tubbington before wondering how Brittany had managed to avoid being in the psych ward herself.

The other patients mostly avoided her, having already formed their own cliques. And for the most part, Quinn was pretty okay with that. She was used to being alone.

Quinn mostly sat back and watched everyone interact with one another.

There was a stone-faced boy who walked constant circles, sometimes disappearing into the padded room only to reappear with bruised knuckles. Quinn made a mental note to never cross him.

There was a girl who reminded Quinn way too much of Pennsatucky from Orange is the New Black.

And another girl who seemed to keep to herself, mostly muttering under her breath and pulling all of the blue crayons from the box only to carefully line them up in an order Quinn couldn't make sense of.

Some people just cried all day in their beds. Others sat in the lounge and watched whatever nonsense movies they played all day.

Rachel seemed to be the most well-adjusted one there.

She knew every nurse by name and often sat and chatted with them for hours on end before the nurses had to get back to their jobs.

And when she wasn't talking off the ears of the nurses, she was in the padded room. Every time she came out, she'd look elated, and breathless, then she'd go get herself a glass of water.

Quinn examined her from afar, wondering what the short girl could possibly be doing in that room for hours on end.

Most people went in there to freak out and hit the walls, but Rachel's skin wasn't bruised in any way.

Maybe Rachel wasn't so well-adjusted.

Maybe she was just as crazy as everyone else in there.

Every day between the hours of one and three, people were allowed to visit. Quinn demanded that no one visit her.

Except for the one time she made Puck bring her some shampoo and underwear.

But after she slugged him in the arm for bringing her only the laciest things she owned, she decided she didn't really want anyone else to see her like this.

The other patients usually had visitors that they'd talk and catch up with.

Everyone, that is, except for Rachel.

The short brunette spent those two hours on her bed, reading whatever books they were allowed.

Quinn had already sorted through the pile and taken the only copy of Sense and Sensibility that she could find. For the most part, the books were those silly inspirational ones with beaches and forests on the covers.

Today, Quinn decided it'd be nice to read a bit on her bed. A nurse had promised her that they were getting in some Shakespeare and the Game of Thrones series, but for now, she entertained herself with one of the inspirational, romantic without any real romance novels.

"I've read that one."

Quinn startled and looked up to see Rachel standing next to her bed.

"It's pretty much the same as the rest. All sweet and romantic but stops short of any actual contact other than holding hands."

Quinn stared at the girl, unsure of how to respond.

"… You really don't talk much, do you?"

The blonde shrugged and grabbed her bookmark of a torn corner of a coloring page, setting the book on her nightstand.

Quinn's eyes widened as Rachel sat at the foot of her bed uninvited.

"Is Quinn short for anything?"

"… No."

"… Alright then. Do you have a middle name?"

"Yes."

"I do too. Mine is Barbra. After my idol, Barbra Streisand."

"Mine is Quinn."

"… Your name is Quinn Quinn? That's a bit absurd."

Quinn shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"I go by my middle name."

"Then what's your first name?"

"Why do you care?" Quinn shot back, feeling her inner walls rise up to protect her.

Rachel seemed taken aback.

"You're the only one who doesn't have visitors. Except for the second day you were here when that obscenely muscular, mohawked boy brought your… stuff," Rachel looked down, her cheeks flushing lightly. "I figured we could get to know each other. We are roommates after all."

"Puck," Quinn muttered.

"I'm sorry?"

"Noah Puckerman. He goes by Puck. He's the one who brought… Those."

"I'm not passing any judgment. Some women prefer to wear lacy unmentionables. It's said to make them feel-"

"Those aren't mine. Well, they are," Quinn huffed, biting her lip for a minute, her brow furrowed. "He's a pervert. And my ex-boyfriend. He thought it'd be funny to only leave me with the stuff my friend made me buy."

"Well that's rather rude."

"He's a teenage buy. You can't expect much else," Quinn mumbled.

"I suppose. I've only had one boyfriend so I don't know much about boys."

"You've only ever dated one person?"

"Well, I didn't say that, now did I."

Quinn stared at the girl as though she'd sprouted an extra arm from the center of her chest.

"You just _did_ say that."

"I said I've only had one _boy_friend."

Quinn's eyes widened.

"I...—"

"I'm a lesbian, Quinn. I figured you should know as you are my roommate."

"So's my friend. I should go."

"If you'd like, I can have the nurses move me to another room. If that would make you more comfortable."

"I… You don't have to."

This time, Rachel's eyes widened.

"Are you sure? All the other women in the ward refuse to room with me. And there's a policy about coed rooming."

"It's fine."

"Well. Alright then," Rachel replied, sitting up a bit straighter and crossing her legs.

The blonde stared at the floor, refusing to meet Rachel's eyes as a silence fell over them, stretching for several minutes. Rachel shuffled around to get more comfortable and almost missed Quinn's quiet response.

"What's it like?"

"What's what like, exactly?"

"Girls. Women. Is it different?"

Rachel chuckled.

"Maybe you can find out sometime."

Quinn's face flushed.

"I think this place is making me crazy," Quinn mumbled, looking around at the walls, desperate to look at anything but the short brunette invading the foot of her bed.

"It can have that effect. You have to find your escape."

Quinn looked puzzled. Rachel smiled and stretched out her hand toward the blonde.

"Come on. Let me show you."

"I'm not a lesbian," Quinn said suddenly, eyeing Rachel's hand as though it were going to attack her.

"That isn't at all what I was referring to, Quinn, however, most women who experiment with other women aren't lesbians."

Quinn brought her knees to her chest, her face redder than she could ever remember it being. Quinn closed her eyes and willed her face to go back to its normal shade.

The blonde nearly jumped out of her skin at the feeling of warm breath over her ear.

"I'll be in the padded room," Rachel teased, placing a chaste kiss on a flaming red cheek before walking out of the room. "Now you know where to find me if you'd like to talk again."

If she closed her eyes tight enough, Quinn could pretend it didn't even happen.

But she couldn't ignore her heart racing.

Or the tingling in her skin where Rachel's lips were.

This really must be a place for crazy people.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Hello to those of you who are reading this! I've found that I'm growing fond of this story and the ideas I have for it. Again, I don't promise to continue it and reserve the right to stop writing it at any time. But for now, I like writing it. I apologize for updating so late at night/early in the morning. I was busy trying to find something to wear to a friend's wedding.

**WARNING: **Descriptions of panic attacks, psychiatric wards, therapy, depression, anxiety, etc. If any of that is triggering for you, please don't read this.

I quite literally just wrote this and posted it without so much as rereading it. Any mistakes are mine. Any continuity issues are also mine. Any issues at all regarding this fic are mine. Feel free to let me know if I've messed anything up...

I own nothing but the plot and my memories.

Enjoy.

* * *

Somehow, her bed started to feel less like a blanket on plywood and more and more like a bed. It still made a crinkly sound when she moved on it, but Quinn was slowly becoming accustomed to her life in the ward.

She was fed at regular intervals, showered every night at the same time. She even took to reading in her room every day at the same time.

To say life in the ward was monotonous would be the understatement of the century.

There was something so horribly not stimulating about the place.

The only thing that kept the blonde from losing her mind was the perpetual mystery of her roommate, Rachel.

It had been three days since Quinn had last spoken to her; the kiss she'd received had been pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind.

It was almost like it'd never happened.

So why did Quinn feel her face flush to a deep, crimson red whenever she allowed herself to think about the short brunette?

Quinn watched the girl almost every moment of the day.

Every morning, she was awake and out of bed before the lights even came on. She'd brush her teeth, wash her face, and spend several minutes brushing her hair. The brunette would then disappear from the ward from an hour, escorted by a nurse who she chatted with animatedly.

Where she went, Quinn wasn't sure. They all had therapy daily, but that was always held in the same room, connected to the ward.

The brunette always came back with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, which she quickly removed, handing the elastic back to the nurse.

At this point, most of the other patients were awake and heading toward the tables for breakfast.

Quinn was still a little irked at the fact that she was only allowed a spoon, but she always ate the food she was provided with. No matter how questionable it looked.

Rachel seemed to eat the same thing every day.

Not that Quinn was paying that close of attention or anything. Her tray just looked different from everyone else's. That's all.

After breakfast, Rachel would retreat to their shared room and spend about an hour stretching and practicing what looked to be yoga.

During that hour, Quinn usually tried to convince herself to watch whatever movie was playing in the lounge.

Though on occasion, she'd fail to convince herself and would sit and try to complete a crossword.

And she may attempt to complete the crossword at the table closest to her room.

But that was just because the sound from the movies was distracting. It wasn't at all because she was curious about her tiny roommate.

Not at all.

After stretching and yoga, Rachel would go to the padded room for exactly two and a half hours.

Every time she left the room, she was flushed, a light pink spread over her cheeks and chest and she drank several glasses of water very slowly.

At this point, it was visiting hour and Rachel would go to their room and read.

Quinn often found herself coloring with the crayons on the tables or reading in the lounge. There was something peaceful about having most of the ward to herself.

After visiting hours, everyone settled down, coloring, watching movies, and alternating visiting the psychiatrists and therapists the ward provided for them.

Rachel always sat at a table by herself, looking nervous, tapping her fingers, biting her nails, and staring into space before she was pulled in for her sessions.

Quinn found therapy to be… difficult.

Opening up to people she'd known her entire life was tough.

Opening up to a complete stranger?

Utterly impossible.

So far, they'd talked about Quinn's (former?) career as a cheerleader at her high school and Quinn's preferred authors.

Anytime the therapists tried to breach the subject of the blonde's family, Quinn felt her hands get clammy and her stomach clench and she felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room.

She barely remembered her first session.

She remembers walking in nervously and feeling like there was something constricting her chest.

After that, she remembers feeling someone's hands on her, shaking her, the sound of screaming filling her ears before she felt a pinprick and waking up in her bed.

It wasn't until her next session that she was informed that at the mention of her family, specifically her father, she'd fallen into what the therapist called a panic attack.

They said it was normal for people coping with anxiety, but since then, Quinn was determined to never let it happen again.

"Quinn, how do you feel about your life at home?"

The blonde's eyes widened and she felt her hands shake as she wrapped them in the edge of her blue scrub shirt.

"I…"

"Take a deep breath, Quinn. It's okay."

Breathing suddenly felt impossible and she felt herself gasping for air.

"Quinn. You're going to have a panic attack if you continue to breathe like that. You need to take deeper breaths."

_What?! No! I can't do that again._

The blonde smoothed a sweaty palm through her hair and closing her eyes, she held her breath, fighting her body's urge to inhale in harsh gasps.

_One. _

_Two. _

_Three._

_Four._

_Five._

_Six._

_Seven._

_Eight._

_Nine._

_Ten._

Quinn took in a deep breath and held it, mentally repeating what her coach had told her when she nearly passed out on the field.

Take a deep breath in and hold it. Let it out even slower than you took it in.

The therapist watched Quinn, his eyes regarding her carefully as she forced her breathing to return to normal.

"Where did your mind go just then, Quinn?"

"Coach Sylvester. She taught us how to control our breathing."

"Your cheerleading coach?"

The blonde nodded, fighting the muscle twitches in her chest.

"Do you feel calmer now?"

Quinn stared at the man, refusing to look away. Determined to show that she was okay, she nodded.

Inside, she felt like screaming. Her lungs convulsed in her chest, twitching and begging for harsh, gasping breaths. Her hands shook with the effort to contain the feelings tearing through her insides.

She wanted to sprint from the room and empty her stomach into the toilet in her room then lay in her bed and cry until there were no more tears left inside her.

The therapist nodded, making a note on his yellow legal pad.

"Can I g-go now?" Quinn asked, mentally chastising herself for stuttering.

"We still have ten more minutes, Quinn."

"I would like to go."

"You will have to open up to me eventually, Quinn. I won't force it out of you, but you can't hope to get any better and go home unless you talk to me."

The blonde nodded, glancing at the door.

"You may go, Quinn. Just keep that in mind, alright? I'm here to help you."

Without another word, Quinn stood and walked briskly to the door, making a beeline for her room.

Once under her blankets, her breaths came in short wheezes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Quinn?"

_Shit._

"Go away, Rachel."

"Would you like for met to get doctor—"

"Go. Away."

"Quinn, they're here to help us. Clearly you're having some trouble with your anxiety. If you'll just."

"Get out of my room, Rachel," the blonde growled between pants.

"Excuse me? This room is just as much mine as it is yours."

"Just leave!" the blonde begged, arms wrapping tightly around her middle.

Quinn heard the shorter girl sigh and took her silence as compliance.

That is, until she felt a hand smoothing slowly up and down her back.

The blonde's breathing picked up and she whimpered, tucking her body tighter, fighting to avoid Rachel's touch.

A quiet humming filled the room, slowing and stilling Quinn's racing thoughts.

Quinn couldn't place the song, but she felt her breathing gradually slow, a small hand rubbing warm circles on her back.

"I'll be back with a glass of water. I'd like for you to sit up while I'm gone. Can you do that, Quinn?"

The blonde nodded under the covers, feeling hot tears of embarrassment streak down her cheeks, soaking into her white pillowcase.

Quinn heard the girl's foosteps as she returned and she pulled her body up, her muscles screaming against the stretch.

Her breathing hadn't quite gotten back to normal, tears still fell from her eyes, dripping down to soak into the front of her shirt.

"Here. Drink it slowly," Rachel said calmly, passing a cup of cool water to the blonde, watching her intently as she sat down across from her.

Quinn closed her eyes, taking slow sips of the water, feeling the twitch in her hands and the shocks going through her nerves slow down.

Rachel reached out and took the cup from the blonde, setting it down on the nightstand.

The shorter girl sat down next to Quinn, pulling her in for a quick hug.

"Panic attacks are terrifying. But they'll go away eventually. You just have to work with the therapists. Not against them."

Quinn nodded, her head pressed against Rachel's chest. Hazel eyes slipped closed at the feeling of the warmth, her heart slowing to the steady rate of the one against her ear.

A warm, gentle hand pulled the blonde up to look Rachel in the eye.

Rachel smiled softly at the hazel-eyed girl in front of her, cupping her cheek gently as she wiped away stray tears.

"It gets easier."

Quinn nodded, trusting the words coming from the girl before her.

Rachel smiled a bit wider. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the blonde's forehead.

"Dinner is in five minutes," Rachel said matter-of-factly as she stood up, walking toward their shared bathroom.

An outstretched hand offered Quinn some hospital tissues and she took them gratefully, drying her eyes and wiping her nose.

"Thank you," Quinn whispered.

Rachel simply nodded and left the blonde to clean up.

**QRQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

Dinner passed with little event. Quinn placed her tray on the table, looking up to meet Rachel's eyes before sitting down across from the girl.

Rachel's eyes widened but she smiled, moving stray crayons and papers out of the way to make more room for the blonde.

"Lucy."

"Pardon?" Rachel asked, looking up at the blonde with a furrowed brow.

"My first name. It's Lucy."

A smile spread across the brunette's face that could rival the joy and brightness of the sun.

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Lucy Quinn."

Quinn ducked her head and nodded down at her tray.

"You too, Rachel Barbra."

* * *

**A/N: **Please review and let me know what you think or if you'd like for me to continue this.


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